Where you go
by DixieCup
Summary: The "long" awaited prequel to Jim's 21 Birthday story... Help Trixie figure out why Jim and Matt Wheeler fought, why Jim is living in the cottage and just who has crossed paths with our favorite Shamuses. This is a little steamier than usual, so - parental guidance may be required. ;


_**A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous. ~ Ingrid Bergman**_

"Boys are idiots," Trixie Belden muttered to herself. Was it her fault she was only 16 and Jim was 18? That she was still in high school and he was in college?

She sat down on the couch and wiped at her tears. The entire stupid spring break, her brothers Brian and Mart were teasing Jim for having met some girl named Sami at school. Did they care that their sister's heart broke every time they opened their stupid mouths? Did they care that the thought of Jim kissing another girl made her want to scream?

Of course not. Because boys were idiots. "Especially brothers!" she muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees and folding her body in on itself.

"I hate to interrupt your diatribe against the male of the species," a husky voice said from the doorway, "but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed kinda upset while we were out exercising the horses this morning." The object of Trixie's frustration stood in the doorway of their clubhouse, a concerned frown on his face.

"Go away, Jim Frayne," Trixie muttered, as tears fell afresh. "I don't want to talk to you."

Jim sighed and joined her on the couch. "If you're mad at me, then I definitely think we need to talk."

"I hate this Jim," Trixie said, her voice catching. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I hate being just a kid while you're an adult. I hate these feelings and emotions and I don't know what to do with them.

"You're 18. I get that. I'm still a kid. But I want and I want and I want!" She straddled his lap until they were touching chest to chest and let out the tears.

Jim hissed at the feel of her core pressed up against the fly of his jeans. Her curls tickled his nose and his arms were wrapped around her curves. Blood was slowly leaving his brain and he had no idea how to get Trixie's crying vine like grip off of him before he embarrassed himself. "Baby," he said, softly, pushing her sweat dampened hair away from her face.

She looked up at him, causing her core to slide more firmly against his crotch. His hands gripped her soft hips and he held her still. "Baby, you need to move," he said, teeth gritted as he felt himself get hard.

Trixie's eyes widened as she felt it to. "Jim?" she whispered, arching into him.

"Baby, you can't." Jim's eyes closed and his head tilted back on the couch.

Trixie's eyes rolled back as the first touch of pleasure assaulted her senses. Her hips arched and she whimpered as the pressure intensified.

Jim's hands tightened and he pulled her into him with deeper intensity. The soft honeysuckle scent of her shampoo tickled his senses. They were both breathing heavily as Trixie's hips helplessly arched against Jim's jean clad cock, as her innocent body fought against newly discovered pleasures.

Reaching an internal decision, Jim cradled her into his arms, crooning softly against her ear. "That's right, baby. You're mad and hot and horny and I'm right here. Holding you. Kissing you. Touching you." He scraped the slight growth of his whiskers against Trixie's arched neck. Her whimpers grew louder and she cried out for more.

Jim tangled his hands in Trixie's curls, pulling her up against the strong column of his neck. Her teeth scraped against his pulse and Jim cried out with the pleasure. "That's it, Trix. I'm the source of all that anger and frustration. Use me, baby. Take your pleasure."

Their lips met in a sweet, hot wet hungry kiss which only broke when Trixie's first orgasm shattered through her. Jim felt the rush of heat between her legs as he bit his lip to stop his own orgasm.

Gradually, their breathing slowed and Jim's hands stroked her spine. "All I've ever wanted was you," Jim said quietly, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "All I've ever loved has been you."

Trixie hid her head, thinking. "I don't understand," she finally said looking at him, her heart in her eyes.

Tangling his hands once more in her hair, Jim pulled her into him for another kiss. "I've just been biding my time until you grew up, baby."

"With other girls?" Trixie asked, outraged.

"No, Trix." He kissed her forehead. "Your brother has a strange sense of humor. Sami is a little girl I was working with. Yeah, she had a little crush on me, but she's six years old, baby."

"There's no one?" Trixie asked.

"Only you," Jim said, looking deep into her blue eyes.

"Oh." Trixie blushed as she shifted on his lap and felt his cock twitch. "I should. Um. Move?" she asked.

Jim groaned and let his head fall back again. "Shamus, it's been like that since you were like 15. I've learned to ignore him."

Trixie giggled, pressing her chest against his once more. "That was incredible," she whispered.

"And it won't happen again," Jim muttered, counting to ten. Twice. In German. "You're way too young and I'm not quite prepared for the consequences of taking this further."

Trixie nodded and he slowly helped her stand up. Jim stood and walked around the clubhouse.

"Do you want to take a walk?" Trixie said.

Jim shook his head, thinking what he really wanted was Trixie. But knowing he'd be settling for a cold shower and a soapy fist. He kissed her forehead, longing to hold her again. "I want nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with you, but I need to take care of something myself. You know?"

Trixie giggled and blushed.

"Dinner tonight? And we'll talk?"

Trixie nodded and watched him walk stiffly up to the Manor House.

_**Those who love deeply never grow old; they may die of old age, but they die young. ~ Benjamin Franklin**_

Trixie was busy admiring the ring sitting snugly on the middle finger of her right hand. She wasn't a jewelry girl by nature but somehow, if it came from Jim, it had extra meaning. And this was Jim's Great Aunt's engagement ring. He'd originally given it to her almost three years ago, but just tonight – the last day of his spring break – he had finally asked her to wear it. Not an engagement ring – exactly – more of a promise ring. With an impish smile, she transferred the diamond to her left hand ring finger, imagining what that would be like, when Jim finally proposed. She giggled at the thought before moving the ring back to its original position.

She was sore from planning her birthday surprise for Jim. While exploring Ten Acres one weekend, she had found a small garden cottage that must have belonged to his Aunt Nell. After pressing Moms, she learned that Aunt Nell was the inspiration for Moms' own love of roses and gardening. Moms told her that Nell had created her own hybrid called the Frayne Rose and its root was buried somewhere in the tangle. Trixie couldn't wait until later in the spring for it to bloom.

Dan had understood at once, of course. There seemed to be some level of understanding between Dan and Jim that was forever outside Trixie's grasp. He had fixed boards and helped shingle the small house. Moms and Di had weeded and pruned back the roses.

Since then, the three girls had devoted long hours to cleaning the cottage. It was still a few months away, but she, Di and Honey had made serious progress. She wanted to give Jim a refuge. Too often, she had seen that look cross his face. Sometimes, it seemed to Trixie, he was a half wild wolf pup raised in a doghouse. She knew he wanted a place to call home but never quite trusted that all that was given couldn't be taken away like it had before. Trixie wanted to give him that safe place. A place that was all his and could never be taken away from him.

The perfect gift she could think of for the boy who could have anything except the one thing he wanted – blood ties of his own.

She heard a soft "bob-bob-white" whistle outside her window. Brow furrowed, she opened the sash a little further and peered out into the late April night. "Jim?" she called, struggling to see. "Is that you?"

"I need to see you, Trix. Can you come down?" His voice was husky with emotion and Trixie's internal "Jim-radar" went on alert. His emotions were a closely guarded, over almost everyone's pay grade, secret. She was one of the lucky few he'd let into that circle.

Jim was standing in her front yard, duffel bag at his feet, a wide eyed hunted deer look in his eye. "Jim, what's wrong?" she approached him, only to stop suddenly, her eyes narrowing in shock. "Who? Tell me who and I'll take 'em out myself."

Jim snorted and grinned as his little blue eyed Valkyrie. He winced as the involuntary smile caused his lip to start bleeding again.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into her living room. "Sit," she ordered, getting an ice cube out for him to put on his lip. "You're eye is starting to swell, too, Jim." He nodded and simply allowed her to fuss over him.

"What happened?"

"It's time to leave," he said, indicating his duffel bag.

Trixie nodded. "Where are we going?"

Jim raised a single, questioning eyebrow. "We aren't going anywhere, Shamus. I'm going into the City and talk to my lawyer. Then figure out where to go from there."

Trixie shook her head. "No, Jim. That's not the way this works. Remember? Where you go, I go. Always." Her eyes filled with tears and Jim held a gentle calloused fingertip to her lips.

"Don't cry, baby. If you start crying, it's going to break me. And I have fought too long and too hard to break now." Already his voice was cracking and he had no idea how to bring it back under control.

"I think it's too late," she said with a sniffle and with a helpless whimper she relaxed on his lap and simply held him while she cried. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped her tears.

"Cry for me, too, baby. I lost my tears a long time ago." His words, quietly spoken, caused her sobs to increase. Jim's arms tightened almost painfully around her as he tried to absorb her love into him.

"I will never be hit again," Jim finally said into her hair.

"Of course not." She laid a butterfly soft kiss to the unbruised corner of his mouth. "Tell me."

Jim swallowed, then pulled her closer, tucking her head into the warmth of his neck. "Matt and I had been arguing all week." Trixie nodded, her fingers tightening into Jim's shirt with fear. She didn't want to hear this but all the same, she needed to know. "You turn 17 in a few weeks and he decided he had to have The Talk with me."

Trixie smiled. "Isn't that my father's job?"

Jim gave her a gentle kiss. "Been there, done that, baby."

Trixie groaned. "Just shoot me. When?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Anytime I was alone with him. In no uncertain terms, no one on one dating before you were 16. Then it became 'the age of consent in New York is 17, Jim'." Trixie groaned again. "Along with other veiled comments about hurting his princess."

She shrugged. "He loves me."

Jim nodded. "I know. And I was grateful. If I was nervous around him, I knew he'd protect you from all those high school boys."

Trixie sniffed and tossed her curls. "Yes, that's me. The Delilah of Sleepyside."

Jim smiled and winced as his lip began bleeding again. He settled Trixie into his arms again, needing her warmth. "As CEO of Wheeler/Hart Industries, there's a lot of traveling. A lot of parties. Wining and dining."

"Schmoozing," Trixie added.

Jim nodded. "And I think the Wheelers and your parents know it's really only a matter of time before you're my wife. I know we still have plans and goals but you're my most important goal, baby."

Tears welled up in Trixie's eyes. "You, too," she said quietly.

Jim's eyes dropped. "Mr. Wheeler kept going on about how he wanted me to meet other people."

"Other women," Trixie said, quietly. "Sophisticated. Glamorous. Rich. Like you."

"He said I'd get you pregnant and married and - "

"Or I'll get pregnant and trap you into marriage," Trixie interrupted, sadly. "And ruin both of our lives."

"So, we fought," Jim said, not correcting her assumptions or adding to her fears. "I don't want boardrooms and schmoozing. I don't want a delicate glam girl who can charm business leads but can't currycomb a horse for fear of breaking a nail. I don't want a wife who spends three hours straightening her hair when all I want to do is tug on my favorite blonde spiral." He tilted Trixie's chin up and tugged gently on his curl. "I know we're young, Shamus, but I've seen empty marriages and I've seen marriages based on love. I know what I want."

"He hit you?" Trixie clarified, stroking the side of his face, her eyes blazing and fierce.

"My little Valkyrie is ready to defend me?"

"I'm not so sure my fair sibling quite qualifies as a mythological Norse bearer of the slain," Mart said quietly from the stairs.

Trixie looked up and gave her brother a half smile. She placed her forehead against Jim's. "Of course." She rubbed her nose against his. "If I showed up at your home all bruised up, I cannot imagine you accepting it without becoming my Highland warrior."

Jim laughed for the first time. "Do I have to wear a kilt?"

Trixie sniffed. "It's my fantasy. If I want you shirtless and in a kilt, swinging a broadsword, I think you should be accommodating."

"Only if the rest of us don't have to watch." Mart entered the living room a little further. "Holy crap, Jim – what happened to your face?"

Jim sighed. "So much for my quiet escape."

Trixie kissed him gently. "No escaping me, Jim Frayne." She eyed her brother. "Don't let him leave. Sit on him if you have to. I'm going to get Moms and Dad and then we'll figure out a plan." She turned back to Jim. "Please, Jim? You can't just run away from this. You're almost nineteen. You never should have been hit – ever! And you're certainly not a helpless child anymore. Just let me in, okay? Let me be in on the plan?"

Jim nodded, his eyes downcast.

_**If all my friends were to jump off a bridge, I wouldn't follow. I'd be at the bottom to catch them when they fall. ~ Unknown**_

An hour later, Jim sat at the kitchen table, surrounded and supported by Trixie and her family.

"You're just a boy, Jim," Peter Belden began but was interrupted by his daughter.

"No, Daddy. You might be able to make that argument about me or Brian or Mart. We were raised in the middle of a tight loving protective family." Her hand caressed Jim's larger one, fisted on the kitchen table. "Jim lost his dad and his mom. That's a pain most of us don't even want to think about. I know I don't. He worked to skip two grades in school all the time working on Jones' truck farm. He endured abuse at the hands of his step father – abuse he doesn't ever really talk about but I've seen the scars." She smiled sadly and touched a small star shaped scar near his eyebrow. "He ran away and lived on his own. He was a man long before he ever wound up in Sleepyside."

"My warrior," Jim said with a proud grin.

Peter looked chagrined. "You're right, of course, Trixie." He turned to Jim. "I do tend to think of your chronological age and not your life experiences. I'm sorry, Jim." Jim nodded, understanding. "If it makes you feel better, I am sure Matt is kicking himself right now for losing his temper but no one here – probably not even Matt himself – faults you for leaving."

Helen placed a fresh pot of steaming hot coffee on the table. She placed her hand on her husband's shoulder in a silent sign of solidarity. "So, what are your plans, Jim?"

"I made a call to my attorney before showing up here," Jim began, rubbing his thumb over Trixie's small hand. "I have a meeting with him at 8 o'clock this morning. He'd invested Uncle James' original inheritance for me and I know it's grown but I wasn't really involved in it all." With a nod to Peter he said, "I am still only 18 and I've been busy with school.

"There's only a few weeks left in this semester," he continued. "My scholarship covered a meal plan and a dorm room so I'll go back to my dorm. Finals will be over by mid-May. After that, I'll need to find an apartment and decide where to go."

Peter nodded. "All sound ideas. Matt might come around and apologize, Jim."

Moms surprised everyone by shaking her head. "No. Jim is right. Even if he apologizes, he still needs to leave. People who abuse always apologize, don't they Jim?"

Jim nodded and repeated, "I will never be hit again, Mr. Belden."

"Moms?" Brian asked.

Moms smiled, a sad, tired smile. "Not me, Brian. My sister. He would apologize and beg her back. And maybe he even meant it at first. But eventually she knew she couldn't trust him anymore. So she left."

"Aunt Alicia?" Trixie asked, shocked. "I had no idea."

"It's not something we generally talk about, honey," Moms said gently.

Trixie nodded. "Okay. So, let me go get dressed and we'll go into the City. If we leave by six we should be there by 8am, right? With traffic?"

Jim shook his head. "Trix, you have school."

Trixie's eyes narrowed and Jim smiled involuntarily. His Shamus was about to go into Valkyrie mode again. "I may have to ask for a free pass, Mr. Frayne."

His right eyebrow lifted, silently encouraging her to continue.

"I may need a free pass so I can cheerfully strangle you in order to convince you that I'm in this with you. Where you go…"

Jim laughed and his broken heart was mended again as he hugged his girl close to his heart. "I go," he finished. "Fine. Now, go get ready. We'll leave in an hour, okay?"

Trixie nodded and pressed a small kiss to his cheek before crossing to her parents. She bussed each of them lightly on their cheeks before leaving to get dressed.

_**It is with flowers as with moral qualities; the bright are sometimes poisonous; but, I believe, never the sweet ~ Augustus Hare**_

As Jim was opening the door on his Jeep Wrangler for Trixie, an ambulance came up Glen Road and pulled into the driveway for Manor House.

"Maybe we should…" Trixie suggested, looking to Jim for guidance.

Jim checked his watch as Brian came out to Crabapple Farm's driveway. "C'mon," Brian said, "Mr. Rainsford will understand if you call him along the way. We have to check this out."

Brian climbed into the back of the Jeep as Jim drove them up the hill to Manor House. Honey saw them from a window and came flying out the door. The force of her impact into his chest caused Jim to lose connection with Trixie. "Honey, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked.

"Oh, God, Jim. It's horrible! First the fight and then after you left, Daddy started hallucinating and screaming about everything was glowing green! I don't understand! I know Daddy's always had a temper but he's never hit anyone before. I'm so scared!" Jim held his sister and began feeling his emotions spiral again. He was afraid he'd lose the breakfast Mrs. Belden had fed him until he felt Trixie and Brian surround them in a group hug.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that with Trixie by his side and friends like the Bob-Whites on his six, he could handle anything and everything.

They entered the foyer and were greeted to the EMTs calling out instructions and stats. Most of it didn't make much sense to Trixie but Brian seemed more and more agitated. "What is it?" she whispered to her brother.

"I'm thinking of what Honey said," Brian said. "The EMTs are saying Mr. Wheeler's heartbeat is irregular and his BP is low. Combined with his loss of control and the hallucinations, I'm worried."

"And everything glowing green," Mrs. Wheeler said as she approached the small group. "But I've been noticing that, too." She looked at Jim's face for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Jim. I tried to stop him."

Jim nodded, "I know. But he's a big guy. Would have taken someone a lot bigger than either you or Honey to stop him."

Trixie's brow furrowed. "Wait. This doesn't sound right. Mr. Wheeler goes violent and now this?" She exchanged a look with Brian. They were both thinking of the time when Brian behaved out of character as well.

"Was any strange food brought into the house lately?" Brian asked.

Mrs. Wheeler looked confused for a moment. "We hired a new chef that's been making wonderful salads." Jim and Honey snorted. "Okay, so the kids don't like them much. But they aren't the ones worried about cholesterol and blood pressure." She itched at a small welt on her shoulder.

"May I, Mrs. Wheeler?" Brian asked, indicating the collar of her shirt. She nodded and he pulled back the collar to reveal more of the small welts. "Hives," he diagnosed. "I suggest you go with the EMTs and get checked out. We're going to check out the kitchen and follow you to hospital, okay?"

"This could all be an allergic reaction?" Honey asked, hope shining in her hazel eyes. Brian shrugged in response. He really didn't have any answers.

Mrs. Wheeler nodded and Honey led her into the ambulance as the EMTs were loading her father into the back. She explained the situation and the EMTs wasted no time in bringing Mrs. Wheeler into the wagon.

Jim led the way into the kitchen and Trixie went right away to the refrigerator. "Looking for anything specific, Trix?" Jim asked as Brian looked into the garbage.

"Just looking," Trixie mumbled as she rummaged through the crisper. "Omigod," she said just as she heard Brian curse.

"What?" Honey said as she joined them.

Trixie and Brian exchanged heated looks, both realizing they had found the same thing. Trixie pulled the bundle of white flowers out of the fridge while Brian dug out a series of green leaves.

"That all belongs to the new chef," Honey said. "He specializes in edible plants."

"That's foxglove," Jim said, steadying himself on the counter.

"_Digitalis purpurea_," Brian said, giving its Latin name. He turned to Honey. "Didn't you tell me that you dad had started taking heart medicine?"

Honey nodded slowly. "Digitalis," she said softly. "But what does this mean?"

"Foxglove is poisonous," Jim said. "My dad was always pointing it out when I was a kid. It's a common enough plant that if you know what to look for, it's pretty easy to find. And stay away from."

"So if Dad already had the medicine in his system, and depending on how much of the foxglove he had eaten, it's likely he was overdosing himself? Is that what you're saying?"

"Brian? Weren't you telling me something about rhubarb, too?" Trixie asked as she pulled out several stalks of the red vegetable.

Brian paled. "The leaves are toxic."

Jim's jaw clenched. "Last night's dinner included a rhubarb leaf salad. I had no idea it was poisonous. I just didn't like the taste of it."

"It takes a lot to actually kill someone with it," Brian said quietly. "But it doesn't take much to make someone sick."

Trixie rummaged through and pulled out a cheesecake. She sniffed it experimentally before handing it to Brian.

"Almonds," Brian said.

"I thought so," Trixie said. "An almond cheesecake might hide the flavor of arsenic."

Honey gasped and reached for Brian's hand. The evidence was piling up.

Trixie's eyes narrowed. "It seems you all were being systematically poisoned."

The four friends looked at each other, worry and fear crossing their faces and minds.

Finally, Jim hugged Trixie. "Okay. Here's what we'll do." He checked his watch again. "Brian, you call Molinson. He needs to start a background check on Chef Scott. And have the cheesecake tested for arsenic. Honey, call the hospital and tell them what we suspect so they can start the proper treatment. I have to go into the City and meet with Mr. Rainsford. I'll keep my phone on me, call me if it's important, otherwise just keep me posted by text, okay?" He turned to Trixie and half smiled at her torn look. "You still ready to go with me?"

_No, I want to investigate!_ was clearly written on her face but she forced herself to realize Jim probably needed her more. "Of course, Jim. The sooner we go, the sooner we'll know what we're dealing with."

Honey reached her hand out to touch Jim's forearm. "You'll leave? Even if it turns out Daddy's been sick?"

Jim closed his eyes. Guilt, pain and fear were clearly written on his strong features. "Even if, Honey. I will never be hit again. That's always been non-negotiable. I hope Matt and I can mend fences and be close again. But I can't live in the same house like I was."

Honey nodded. "And me?" Tears filled her large hazel eyes.

Jim released Trixie's hand long enough to pull Honey into his embrace. "You're the sister of my heart. Even if I'd never been adopted," he placed a small kiss on her cheek, "you would still be my sister."

Brian embraced Honey and they watched Jim and Trixie pull out and head towards the City.

Trixie watched Jim's strong freckled hands on the gear shifter. Usually, she could watch him do anything and never get tired of it. Today, she worried about him.

"Sometimes I forget how big you really are," she said, stroking his long fingers with her own smaller hand.

Jim cocked an eyebrow and looked at her. "Was I just insulted?"

Trixie giggled. "Of course not. I just meant, you're so gentle with me and Honey and Di. But you're almost 6'4" aren't you?"

Jim shrugged. "I've grown since I graduated high school," he conceded. "But I haven't been to a doctor in a while. I'm not sure how tall I am."

"You were over 6 feet tall in high school."

Jim nodded. "My dad was tall. It's no big surprise that I am, too."

"You're hands are so much bigger than mine, too," she commented, lining them up on the gear knob. "And you've been working out."

Jim shrugged. "Stress reliever, Trix. My girl is an hour away and I have to make due with phone calls, text messages, and instant messenger. The gym is where I go to run off the tension."

"You're huge! Can you even fit into your dress shirts anymore?" He shrugged in response.

"Trix, I would never hurt you. You know that, right?" He risked a glance over at her.

Trixie nodded but seemed lost in thought.

"Are you afraid of me? My size?" Jim asked.

Trix flashed him an annoyed look. "No. Not that. Just – sometimes I don't always understand, Jim." She stroked his right hand on the gear shifter. "Your hands are huge but so delicate. That chess set you made for Mart for Christmas last year was a work of art." She looked out the window at the passing scenery. "Your size contrasts so beautifully against delicate girls like Di and Honey. I'm just this stocky, sturdy little thing by comparison."

Jim stared at her for a moment before pulling into a rest area on the highway. He turned the Jeep off and took both of her hands in his.

"I don't like mucking around with my emotions," Jim began. "It can be a land mine at times," he said with a sad half grin. "But sometimes it smacks me upside the head that as well as you know me, you actually aren't inside my head and can't read my thoughts." He kissed her gently on the lips.

"Everything I loved, everything I was, my identity and my life was ripped away from me before I was fifteen years old. I was a half starved stray when you found me, Trix. For food, sure. For the first year after I was adopted, I didn't think I was ever going to stop being hungry. But I was also starving for something else. I was hungry for someone who needed me. Who would love me. Who would shelter me from the storms in life." He reached over and brushed a small kiss along her forehead. "I'm an adult now. I don't so much need someone to complement me as I do someone who will guard my heart as if it were her own." The kisses grew longer and sweeter. "It took a while but I realized I had all that from the moment I met you. You were the linchpin of it all. You found me, chased me, brought me back, fed me, loved me and believed in me."

Trixie wiped an errant tear off her cheek. "I've never been able to protect or shelter you," she said with a sad look.

Jim shook his head. "Of course you did, Shamus. Because as long as I have you, I have all I need. Your belief in me humbles me. Your love has been this amazing well that no matter how often I drink from it, it's always effervescent and overflowing." He played with one of her curls. "You've given me everything and anything a man could want in his partner. And you've done it with the softest pink lips and the most delicate small hands."

He kissed her hands and simply allowed her to cry. "I would lay down my life for you, Shamus. You kept me whole in those early months. I owe you everything."

"So, you're grateful to me?" Trixie asked, playing with the diamond ring on her right hand.

"Of course I am," Jim said, lifting her chin.

"This talk of our future," Trixie clarified. "Is that just because of gratitude, then?"

Jim realized where Trixie was heading. "No, baby. I love you. I'm just trying to explain how many layers deep you actually are inside me. Hurting you would hurt me. Watching you bleed is like cutting me." He brushed a feather light kiss on the tip of her nose. "You're my life, Trix. I wouldn't have nearly the strength you see if I weren't drawing on your strength to have it."

Trixie sniffled with her emotions. "C'mon, stud muffin. Let's get that meeting with your lawyer taken care of. There's an early birthday present waiting for you from me and the Bob-Whites."

_**That afternoon**_

_**The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they grow separately without growing apart. ~ Elizabeth Foley**_

"So, just so I understand it," Trixie said as they left the City and started their way back home. "Your accounts are all in good shape and your investments were all put into your name after your 18th birthday. You still won't have direct access until you're 21 but you did take Mr. Wheeler's name off the paperwork. Because of all the extra coursework and internships you've squeezed in, you'll finish the coursework for your B.A. after the fall term."

Jim nodded. "I've had a job interview lined up with St. Cecilia's in Briarwood for a few weeks. They're looking for an assistant counselor for troubled boys. I'm hoping that with my B.A. in psychology, they'll bring me on and I can work while I go for my MSW."

"The experience you had working at Kids Peace in Pennsylvania will come in handy," Trixie commented.

Jim smiled. "Yeah, I've been hard at work on this grand plan of mind for a long time, Shamus."

Trixie nodded, looking out the window. "I think you'd be an amazing therapist, Jim. Calm and steady but you're a guy, too. Someone that kids can relate to."

Jim shrugged. "My goal was always to help at risk kids, Trix. And therapy helped me in ways I never would have thought."

"And your dream for the Frayne Academy?"

Jim shrugged. "I've had internships at Boys Town in New England, Texas, and here in New York. And I loved it. I learned so much dealing with the kids at Kids Peace, too. The problem is always the same. To set a similar structure up in the here and now will be all paperwork and legal fees. I think it's a better use of my resources to spend my time dealing one on one with the kids. My own program is there, on the back burner. We'll see how it goes. But I want to help people now, not after a hundred years of school."

Trixie stroked the hand resting on the gear shift. "Do you think St. Cecilia's will be a go with the horse back riding idea you wanted to start?"

Jim shrugged. "A lot of that was going to depend on Matt and Regan. I'm sure Regan can recommend a groom. Mr. Rainsford said I could back a small stable on my own, but I was really excited about working with Matt and Regan on this."

"Understandable," Trixie said, lapsing into silence.

Jim was unnerved by the silence at first until he glanced over and saw that Trixie had dozed off. He grinned at his girl friend's sleeping form and lightly patted her on the thigh.

She woke with a start as her cell phone went off. "Hello?" she asked sleepily. "Oh, Brian! Okay. I'm going to put you on speaker so Jim can hear, too, okay?" pause. "I fell asleep in the car, Brian. Sheesh! Seriously, not that it's any of your business anyway." pause. "Ohmygod, Brian. Shut it or I'm calling Honey for news about the Wheelers." pause. "Okay. You're on speaker, Brian."

"Brian, we're almost to Sleepyside," Jim said. He put the Jeep in neutral as he left the highway. "How are the Wheelers?"

"Well, Trix and I were right. It was foxglove and they had been overdosed on it. The oxalate from the rhubarb was only trace amounts. They're still running tests on the cheesecake. They've been treated and are being kept overnight for observation. The crisis seems to have been averted."

"And Chef Scott?" Jim asked.

"Molinson is being tight lipped about it," Brian admitted. "But he seems to be taking it seriously."

"Jim?" Honey's voice came on the line. "Daddy is so sick thinking about the fight. He wants to talk."

"Not just yet, Honey," Jim's voice was tight. "I understand about the poison but – I can't talk to him just yet. Okay? But I still love you. You know that, right?"

Honey sniffled. "Love you too, Jim. Where are you going to sleep tonight?"

"I'm going to show Jim his birthday present," Trixie said, smiling up at Jim. "But I think he's going to go back to the City so he can finish up and get his head on straight for finals."

"Okay. Well, everything here is handled. Trix, do you think I can sleep over your house tonight? I just don't think I want to be alone."

"Of course," Trixie said. "You know Moms loves having you. I'll see you in a little bit, okay? We're approaching the exit now,"

"I need you to go around back of the house on Ten Acres," Trixie said, referencing Jim's property on Glen Road as they entered their home town of Sleepyside-on-Hudson, NY.

"Sure, Trix."

_**A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams. ~ Unknown**_

Jim pulled into the overgrown driveway at Ten Acres. "Where to, Shamus?"

Trixie got out of the car and lead him down a path he'd never noticed before.

"There's nothing back there but the old summerhouse, Trix," Jim protested.

"It's back further on the property line between the Farm and Ten Acres," Trixie said. "Moms mentioned it in passing one day. I guess Aunt Nell is the cause of Moms' interest in flowers and gardening."

Jim's brow quirked. "It's a garden cottage."

Trixie nodded. "Moms and I call it Nell's Cottage. Moms said that's how she always referred to it when Aunt Nell was alive." She handed Jim the key she wore around her neck. "Dan put a new lock on the doors for you. He did a ton of the heavy work," Trixie said. They looked at each other for long moments. "Aren't you going to open the door? I'm dying here!"

Silently, Jim unlocked the door. It opened into a great room with a small fireplace on the eastern side.

"I was originally thinking you'd need a private place to research and work on your thesis and later your dissertation. There are windows on all sides, so you get a delightful cross breeze." She was babbling but Jim's continued silence was unnerving her.

"Honey and I went to a few estate sales and rummaged through the attic at Crabapple Farm for some furniture. Not much, our budgets were kind of limited, but I think we did okay. We got all the linens from the estate sales, too. It was actually a lot of fun. Honey made the curtains. Mart and Dan replaced boards and then we all painted. Honey liked the pale lemon with the soft sagey green shutters but of course if you don't like it, you can change it.

"There's just a small kitchenette. We didn't have the money for an oven, but it's got a microwave and a coffee pot. There's a grill outback, too. And a fire pit. Mr. Maypenney had this small dorm refrigerator that we put in here. Back here is the bedroom and bathroom. Moms and Dad donated the sleigh bed. I guess it belonged to some great great someone like a thousand generations ago. There's a beautiful claw foot tub back there, too."

She trailed after Jim as he went up the stairs to the small loft. "The house doesn't have air conditioning," she continued chattering. "So, I'm not sure you'll be able to use the loft much in the heat of summer but the whole cottage is surrounded by shade. So maybe it won't be too bad. This old secretary was in here and Moms helped find a chair. Mart and Dan brought in the overstuffed chair and Honey and I found the reading light. We were going to build bookshelves in here, too, but I jumped the gun showing it to you before your birthday. We thought this would be your office and are you EVER going to say anything?"

Still silent, Jim ran his fingers over the fresh pine and lemon scented wood secretary.

Jim retraced his steps and finally took in what his friends – no, not just friends but family – had done for him. "The Bob-Whites did all this?"

"Well, and Moms. Gleeps, Jim! I didn't even show you the best part!" She grabbed his hand and tugged him into following her onto the back porch.

"There's a best part?" Jim asked with a rueful grin.

"Dan and Regan replaced some of the boards on the porch. You can look out over the game preserve from here." They walked into the rose garden. "Moms and Di did most of the garden. Aunt Nell was instrumental in getting Moms hooked on gardening. Apparently, your aunt and uncle created a hybrid rose called the Frayne Rose. It's a blush colored rose with a red center. I'm hoping the rose bushes all come up this summer, but of course it's too early for that –"

Jim kissed her. Not the gentle kisses or soft meaningful romantic kisses she'd been used to. This was an emotionally ripe, fierce kiss of possession and love and longing.

He hoisted her into his arms and her legs wrapped around his hips. Using the wall of the house to help support them, Jim poured his thanks and love out in his kiss.

How had he lucked into having the most wonderful girl in the world fall in love with him?

_**The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. ~ Mahatma Gandhi**_

The over sanitized air of Sleepyside General Hospital assaulted Jim's nose as he and Trixie made their way off the elevator. Scent memories of his parents dying in hospitals assaulted him and took his breath away.

_Matt and Madeline Wheeler were not going to die_, he reminded himself. But the memories remained.

"Brian said they gave your mom. Um. Mrs. Wheeler some prednisone for the hives and they think she should be fine. Honey said the docs want to keep them both over night for observation."

Jim nodded and his grip on her hand tightened almost painfully. "Honey said they were in the same room."

They stopped outside the room and Jim took a deep breath, panic rising in him. Trixie stood on her toes and planted a soft wet kiss to his lips. Their instant chemistry took hold and Jim simply held her and kissed his girl.

He smiled and touched his forehead to her's. "I needed that."

"I know. And your girl is right here. No need to go to the gym to relieve excess stress." Trixie cradled his face in her hand. "Now, go. I'll be out here in the hallway."

"You're not coming in?" Jim's breath caught.

Trixie shook her head, gently tracing the bruising around Jim's cheek and eye. "I don't think I can just yet, Jim. I know Mr. Wheeler is your and Honey's dad and he was poisoned. But he hit you." She rubbed her nose against the bridge of his. "How understanding would you be if I was bruised? Even if it were an accident?"

Jim nodded. Trixie bruised and beaten might be one of the few things that could bring him to violance. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. With a last glance at Trixie, he entered the hospital room like it was a firing squad.

"Matt. Madeline," Jim greeted, his voice neutral.

"Oh Jim," Madeline stood up and hugged him. Matt sat up a little straighter in his bed.

"I'm sorry, Jim." Anxious green eyes took in Jim's swollen eye and cut lip.

Jim shrugged. "I've taken worse."

Matt winced. "Yeah, I suppose you have."

"How are you feeling? Honey said you're both in overnight for observation but they're pretty sure you'll be fine."

Matt and Madeline exchanged a long look. "We'll be home by tomorrow afternoon. The bigger question is, what are you going to do?"

Jim caught his reflection in the mirror. Tall and muscular he was the epitome of strength and confidence. To himself and those precious few he let inside, he was still that boy insecure of his welcome.

"I'm going back to school. Finals are wrapping up."

"And afterwards?" Matt asked, his eyes narrowing.

Jim nodded. "I have one more full semester to finish for my undergrad degree. I'll need to find a place to live, Matt. Logically, I can understand what happened but you did a number on my trust."

Matt held his wife's hand for support. "If I could take it all back, I would."

Jim's brilliant green eyes – so similar to his adopted father – moistened with emotion. "I know you would. And someday, I hope we can work through this. But not now."

"You won't go far?" Madeline begged.

Jim shook his head. "No, not too far. The Bob-Whites fixed up Aunt Nell's garden cottage for me to study in. I might stay there for a while or maybe get an apartment close to Briarwood." He stared out the window for a moment. "Trixie wants to know if you were working on anything specific recently? Obviously, you're a wealthy business man and enemies aren't uncommon. But anything recent?"

Madeline and Matt exchanged another long look. "The last deal I was working on was opening up a new restaraunt. Honey can look on my laptop in my office. I was backing the Hakaito brothers opening up a hibachi restaraunt in town. But I can't see how that could have created any enemies. It's not like people have to eat Japanese food."

Nervously, Jim checked his watch. "I need to go. I have to get Trixie home and then head back to school." He turned to leave.

"Jim?" It was Matt's voice, hoarse with emotion. "Can you forgive me?"

Jim turned to look at the man who had taken him in, fed him, clothed him, adopted him and loved him. "Of course I forgive you, Matt. But this is too close of a memory for me. I can't forget and move back in like nothing happened. When I left Jones' farm, I vowed I would never be hit again. I would never put myself in that situation again. I was just a kid then. But it's my one non-negotiable.

"I'll work hard, I'm not afraid of hunger, or survival. But I will never let anyone hit me again."

Matt nodded, understanding and feeling nauseated at his own actions at the same time. It would be easier if Jim had fought and railed. Matt's own temper would be able to cleanse his guilt. Jim's quiet acceptance and forgiveness left nothing but shame.

"That's understandable, Jim. Good luck on your finals."

Jim nodded. "I'll call tomorrow night. See how everyone is doing."

Madeline's eyes filled with tears. "I'd like that very much, Jim."

Matthew and Madeline embraced. It was an olive branch. It was enough. For now.

_**A woman uses her intelligence to find reasons to support her intuition. **_

_**Gilbert K. Chesterton**_

_Bob-White Clubhouse_

_Next day, after school_

Trixie pulled out a dry erase board and wrote what they knew about the case. Brian's pictures from the kitchen were taped to a wall.

Jim and Brian had gone back to school, leaving the Bob-Whites to their specialty: crime solving.

"What do we know about Chef Scott?" Trixie asked.

Honey looked at her notes. "Culinary Institute of America grad. Specialized in edible flowers. He came highly recommended." She held up the letters of recommendation from her father's files.

Dan picked them up and looked through. "One of these professional recommendations is local. Mart and I will track them down, see if they pan out face to face."

"I'm going to interview Cook," Honey decided. "See what kind of background information or gossip Chef Scott may have talked about."

Trixie nodded. She knew Honey wanted to stay close at home right now. "Di? There are also two personal references."

Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Mart, why don't you and Di take one set of references and Dan and I take the other? Since you boys have your driver's licenses and we don't yet, it seems a better division of labor."

On the board she wrote "Motive, Opportunity, Means"

"We already know she had opportunity and means," Diana said, looking at Brian's pictures. "We need to concentrate on motive."

"The restaurant business is suspicious, though," Honey said. "But I can't picture the Hakaito brothers poisoning my father."

Trixie wrote "restaurant" on the white board. "What if your dad and the Hakaitos took a property that Chef Scott wanted?"

Dan nodded. "That's where the interviews come in."

"And Molinson's investigation?" Mart asked with a grin.

Trixie sniffed. "Molinson needs to keep up. Belden-Wheeler-Frayne-Lynch-Mangen are on the case."

They left and locked up the clubhouse.

Honey reached out and held Trixie's hand, causing the group to stop. "You did it again."

Trixie looked at her blankly. "Did what?"

"Gave me my family back," Honey said. "The first time was in the beginning when Jim first came to live here." Her voice shook. "Then when you encouraged me to talk to Mother I got a mom again." She wiped her tears and Di hugged her. "With your idea for a cottage for Jim, he won't really be leaving. He'll be just a few minute walk away. And now, we're going to try and figure out who wanted to make my family sick or even kill us." Mart handed Honey his handkerchief. "I owe you my everything, Trix."

Overcome with the emotion, Trixie fought to respond. "Well, not to rip off your rose colored glasses," Trixie began with a wet hiccup, "but I think we're about even on the Jim ledger entry. You got a wonderful brother and I got…" she blushed. "I got the most wonderful boy in the world." The three girls hugged. "And besides, you keep my oldest brother busy so he's not sticking his worried nose all up in my business."

_**Murder is commoner among cooks than among members of any other profession. ~ W.H., Auden**_

_Saturday morning_

_Bob-White clubhouse_

_All Bob-Whites in attendance_

"So, we're all here," Trixie said, after calling the meeting to order. "Reports. Mart? Di? You guys can go first."

"We took Chef Scott's personal contact list from his resume," Di said. "We interviewed his neighbor Ruth Ann Wilson."

"Ruth Ann, it seems," Mart said, taking over the story, "is a waitress at the Dusty Cauldron, a restaurant in White Plains. Scott was their sous chef."

"According to Ruth Ann, Scott was temperamental and definitely knows how to hold a grudge. He also has a highly annoying catch phrase of 'fabulous-amundo.'" Di added.

"So why let her name be put down for a reference," Jim asked.

"What part of knowing how to hold a grudge is confusing you, old chap?" Mart asked. "Apparently the dear Ruth Ann has been known to overindulge in the adult beverage department. It was Scott keeping her secret that allowed Ruth Ann to stay employed."

Trixie nodded and wrote "blackmail" on the dry erase board.

"Trix and I basically got the same story from her professional references," Dan said. "Highly emotional and easily annoyed were the reports. Same stupid catch phrase."

Trixie nodded and wrote "anger issues" on the board. "Do you think Chef Scott has dreams of being the next Emeril Lagasse?

"Honey? What did you find out?" Trixie asked.

"According to Cook, before taking the position with my parents, Chef Scott was trying to get backing for her own Italian restaurant. Something happened right before they were due to sign for the building but Cook didn't know what."

"Where was she going to open up her place?" Brian asked, drawing a quick map of Sleepyside. He put an "X" on Main street where the Hakaito brothers were opening their Japanese restaraunt."

Honey read off the address and Brian marked a "Y". "They aren't even close to each other," Jim muttered. "I'm not getting the connection."

Dan gasped as an idea occurred to him. "The liquor license!" he blurted out. "There are only a limited amount of liquor licenses issued in an area, especially one as small as Sleepyside. I wonder if that's it?"

Dutifully, Trixie marked down "liquor license" under the "motive" column of her chart. "Do you think we have enough to bring to Molinson?" she asked.

"What?" Mart teased. "The Belden-Wheeler-Frayne-Lynch-Mangen agency isn't going to complete the arrest and investigate further?"

Trixie shook her head. "This is too important. Too near and dear to all our hearts to risk not giving what we know to the police."

Jim stood beside his girl and hugged her. Ignoring Dan's wolf whistle and the Belden brother's cries of objection, Jim kissed Trixie.

_An hour later..._

Sergeant Molinson stared at the crowd of teens around him. "You'll take us seriously this time," Trixie stated, Jim at her back and Honey by her side. Together they were an unstoppable wall of determination.

"You know your little interviews won't stand up in court," Molinson said, his tone derisive and dismissive.

"That's why we came to you with what we have," Jim said, his solidarity with Trixie unquestioning. His green eyes met Molinson's gaze. "The Wheeler's are important in Sleepyside as well as in New York and in the world economy. You are not going to let our suspicions die out. You will prove that you're worthy of the badge and get interviews that will stand up in court."

"Unless you don't think you can handle the case?" Diana asked, holding Mart's hand. "Because I'm sure my dad will be more than happy to help fund a private investigation." Her violet eyes also met Molinson's gaze. "You will put your prejudices aside and use our background information and solve this case."

Brian's deep voice joined the chorus. "Matt and Madeline Wheeler deserve justice, Sergeant. You always lecture my sister about getting involved. This time, we're coming to you with our evidence and our suspicions. The least you could do is respect our time and talent on this."

Brian's lecture was interrupted as they saw Chef Scott being led away in handcuffs.

Molinson's smirk was ignored by them all as they left the station.

_**There is no spectacle on earth more appealing than that of a beautiful woman in the act of cooking dinner for someone she loves. ~ Thomas Wolfe**_

_Jim's 19th birthday Celebration_

_Nell's Cottage_

"No," Jim said as he walked into the cottage. "We are not watching another _Boy Meets Grill_ marathon."

"But I love Bobby Flay!" Trixie argued. "And I received the complete show on DVD for my birthday!"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Who got that for you? I don't remember that while you were opening gifts."

Trixie grinned. "Dan gave them to me. Wasn't that sweet?"

"Yeah, remind me to thank Dan," Jim said with a snort.

Without waiting for him to say anything further, Trixie continued. "I don't see what the big deal is. Chef Flay is teaching me to grill more than just hamburgers. Who knew cooking could be so much fun? And I thought you liked grilled food?"

"I do. I just don't like him."

Trixie sniffed and tossed her curls. "The Bob-Whites are coming over later. Di is bringing over a movie and Honey is in charge of your birthday cake."

"Do I even want to know what movie?" Jim asked.

"I think she said _Memphis Belle_. It's one of our favorites." She grinned goofily, thinking of Eric Stoltz. She just didn't see what Di saw in Matthew Modine, but she almost agreed with Honey that Harry Connick, Jr. was a hottie. _Almost._

She paused the cooking DVD and hugged Jim. "How was your visit with your parents?" she asked.

Jim nodded. "It was okay. A little uncomfortable but it's getting better. I told them about the job offer at St. Cici's and getting accepted at NYU's evening graduate program. In a year or two, I'm hoping I can take some time and work on my thesis." He rubbed his face with tired, calloused hands and mussed his hair.

He had other, Trixie inspired plans. But for the here and now, life was on track again.

A/N:

A quick apology to all the Matt Wheeler fans out there. My daughter is one of them and has been scolding me for 1) poisoning him and 2) making him hit Jim. In my defense, tho, the only way to make 2) happen was to have 1) happen. _(I'm sure all those fluent in Honey speak will understand.)_

This story occurs 2 years prior to Jim's 21st Birthday story.

Both foxglove and rhubarb leaves are poisonous. An adult would have to eat a lot in order to die but not quite as much to make them sick.

KidsPeace is in Allentown, PA. It just seemed like a place that Jim would have interned at. From their website:

Founded in 1882, KidsPeace provides a unique psychiatric hospital; a comprehensive range of residential treatment programs; accredited educational services; and a variety of foster care and community-based treatment programs to help people in need overcome challenges and transform their lives. KidsPeace provides emotional and physical health care and educational services in an atmosphere of teamwork, compassion and creativity.

_ . ?ekmensel=c580fa7b_72_0_356_1_

St. Cecilia's is the patron saint of musicians. St. Cecilia's House in Briarwood, NY is an entirely made up place.

Emeril Lagasse is a restauranteur and celebrity chef with a famous catch phrase of "BAM".

Bobby Flay is a NY chef and restauranteur. I've eaten at his restaurant Mesa Grill and it's a-may-zing. I highly recommend! He's had many shows on Food Network, including _Boy Meets Grill_. He's also noted for being tall with red hair, freckles, and from New York. I can't imagine why Jim isn't a huge fan. _(bwahahahaha_)

_Memphis Belle_ is a wonderful movie with Eric Stoltz, Matthew Modine, and Harry Connick, Jr. I figured it was a natural favorite for the female Bob-Whites. If you're not sure why, just look their pictures up in IMDB.


End file.
